Archive of Our Own

For what must be the fourth time, Tana caught himself pacing.  He forced himself to sit back down on the couch; there was nothing left to tidy or reposition; the place was immaculate.  It was almost tempting to disorder it a little, to avoid giving the impression that he'd been compulsively dusting and rearranging to pass the time...but that might make it even more obvious.  It wasn't, after all, as though his soon-to-be guest didn't know his habits.
He jiggled his leg, suppressing the urge to run his hands through his hair; that was immaculate too, he knew - but some things couldn't be helped.

Anyway, if he looked heart-stoppingly perfect, the bastard had it coming.

Even six months later, his initial fury at the unjustness of the situation had never really gone away; other concerns had merely shunted it off to one side, a neatly-contained assortment of hurt and anger left in a dusty corner of his mind to be dealt with when the time came.

Privately, he still wondered if deferring immediate action could be honestly considered 'carefully preparing for a reckoning to come.'
Under the circumstances, he flatly refused to think of it as 'waiting.'

Whenever the notion came up, he forced that back down again, too, and carried on as he always had; ceaseless and untiring, towards his goals.  From a certain angle it probably looked like practicality, or acceptance...like refusing to interrupt the relentless pace he set for himself with stewing over things he genuinely couldn't control, no matter how much he might want to.
It would be an accurate picture, most times; even one he would stand back and admire with a feeling of pride.  This time, though..that he kept forging ahead simply because he had no real choice in the matter entirely spoiled the aesthetics, regardless of the angle of observation.

Shinsuke, he freely admitted, hadn't been given a choice either.  In their line of work, orders could only be followed - and his once-partner had been ordered to the LA Dojo 'indefinitely' on some hair-brained quest to reshape himself into the kind of looming hulk the powers that be felt he needed to become, for credibility's sake.
Having been on the receiving end of Nakamura's arsenal more than once, even Tana, with his very strong feelings about bodybuilding, couldn't completely cede their point.  If a man could tear your arm off, did it genuinely matter if he looked as though he could?
That his opinion might be slightly biased towards Shinsuke's body looking precisely the way it always had was beside the point - it was still a logical argument.  Even if he'd had no forum to voice it.

Anger didn't quite manage to eclipse the memory; the way his stomach had dropped at 'indefinitely,' the cold, numb feeling in his hands, the immediate impulse to protest, to bend the decision to his will as surely as he planned to reshape the company itself to suit his vision.  But the terrible truth they both knew was, nothing would be able to sway Choshu and Simon's decision.  Shinsuke would go dutifully where he was sent, as did they all, regardless of the merit or lack thereof he, or anyone, ascribed to the reason, or the destination.

The hopeless inevitability was almost the worst part.
But only almost.

It still brought bile to the back of his throat, replaying the last, explosive scene of their ruined relationship.  He was even poisonously certain that the bastard had meant it as a kindness, his way of giving Tana the opening he'd clearly expected him to want, of letting him off the hook without any need for hand wringing or drawn-out drama.  The resigned look in his eyes, the acceptance in his voice...so alarmingly unlike his normally-irrepressible firecracker of a fool.  He'd been stunned to silence, mute as a statue, before anger like he'd never known suffused his entire being, and all notions of a civil ending had fled before it.

One minute they were holding hands on the couch, taking a break between packing up Shinsuke's things, and the next...

"I don't expect you to wait for me," he'd said.

Not even as a whisper, in that soft way he had when he was afraid, or in pain...no, this was a measured tone, almost offhand, as though everything was already settled with nothing left to do but exchange their borrowed clothing and forgotten items, shake hands and call it a day.  As though the whole of their relationship had moved, little by little, towards a forgone conclusion that he'd accepted at the outset and never once reconsidered.
As though none of it had mattered at all.

Under less...ongoing...conditions, Tana might even be ashamed of his reaction. He wasn't a volatile man by nature, he wasn't given to rages like Liger or cruelty like Inoki; he couldn't recall having so much as raised his voice before, with Shinsuke, but he'd certainly done it then.  Even the way his partner shrank away from him only fueled the sudden fury, like gasoline thrown on a bonfire - the audacity of it.
That this man, who never resigned himself to any fate he didn't choose himself, who fought and rebelled and mouthed off like consequences didn't exist...that he'd just...given up, unilaterally, and expected him to do the same.

Unwelcome tears stung his eyes, just thinking about it.  He hadn't, as much as possible, after the door slammed behind him.  Nakamura'd left as planned the week after - they never had gotten around to returning forgotten items, or indeed speaking again, since the last, bitter words of goodbye.

So much for avoiding drama.

Forgetting himself, Tana ran shaky hands through his hair, glancing at the wall clock.  He distantly wished he'd paid more attention to travel times during his own excursions.  Oh, he knew the plane's scheduled landing time, certainly - passed now by a good forty-five minutes, if it hadn't been delayed.  What he'd failed to retain was exactly how long it took on average to get free of the airport and to his neighborhood.  So long as he arrived home, the whens were immaterial after a long haul flight.  Now, though, the seconds ticked by like droplets during water torture.

He wondered again what had possessed him to extend the invitation.  By text, out of the blue, after six months of frigid silence.  It wasn't as though Shinsuke didn't have plenty of options; he'd given up his little rented house when the excursion order'd come down; the ambiguity of the timeline hadn't left him much choice.  But he certainly still had friends to stay with while he house hunted...or family, if it came down to that.

Try as he might, Tana couldn't imagine the look on his face when he'd read the message, and probably re-read it.  Confusion?  Fear, maybe?  Disbelief, certainly.

Nakamura must have thought either he'd lost his own mind, or Tana had.

It wasn't, admittedly, an unreasonable conclusion; he was half convinced himself.  Evidence was plentiful that both were true.  What other explanation could there be for the fact that the madman actually accepted?

"We really must belong together," Tana muttered, resting his head against the back of the couch.  Near as he could tell, the hands of the clock were actually moving backwards.

Shinsuke's reply had been as painfully polite as the invitation itself; cautious, like a scolded puppy peeking out from under a table to see if it had yet been forgiven.  They'd sent only the most basic subsequent messages, exchanging facts and times, nothing so casual even as an inquiry about coworkers, or the weather; if someone were to look the past week's correspondence over, they could easily mistake it for a lesson in a language book, simple, and clipped, and anxiously formal.

Normally the type to reflect and consider his own motivations, Tana wasn't at all sure he could identify his intentions now.  Nakamura's eventual return had been too painful to think of at all, let alone plan for; the thought of it and any emotions the prospect stirred got shoved even more forcefully down, next to the memories, and hurt, and anger.
It was easier to admit to, the anger.  The pain, the grief, the longing...those, he had less time for.  Anger could at least be translated to energy; resourceful though he may be, he'd yet to find a way to put heartbroken despair to good use.

"Maybe I just want to slap him and shut the door in his face," he sighed.  Even as he said it, though, he doubted it was true.  No matter what kind of baffling beef-and-cheese fueled American metamorphosis Nakamura had undergone in his absence, Tana was miserably certain it would still be a beautiful face.

A jarring buzz and burst of static cut through his thoughts, heralding a painfully familiar voice, tinny over the intercom.  He had a split-second to brace himself, but it wasn't anything like enough.

"Tana?" Shinsuke said cautiously, the little tremor in his voice having nothing to do with the limitations of the speaker.  "I'm downstairs...if you're there..."

"Right where the fuck you left me," he muttered, bitterly noting that he'd sprung to his feet before Nakamura'd even finished speaking.  He let him stew for a few seconds before he hit the mic button himself.  "Come on up," he said, hoping he sounded casual.

Welcoming might be pushing it, but he could live with casual.

He thought he heard a quiet noise of affirmation, but couldn't be certain, through the static.  With sheer willpower alone, he fought off the urge to start pacing in the tiny entryway; again, the mathematics of timing failed him.  How many steps to the elevator?  How many seconds to his floor?  How long did he have, before between doors swished open and deposited the man he'd both longed and dreaded to see for half a year on his metaphorical doorstep?

'Slap him and shut the door in his face' took a brief lead over whatever other impulses it was competing with, but the rally was over before it really began.  He checked his reflection in the small mirror next to the door, and re-positioned one silky lock of hair that had somehow gotten itself out of place.

"Don't you start," he warned it sternly.

The knock was hesitant when it came, oddly soft, as though Shinsuke was patting the door with his fingertips rather than rapping with his knuckles.  Tana could picture him on the other side, forehead leaned against the wood, probably trying to stop himself from shaking.
Emotions struck him all at once, too numerous and chaotic to count, let alone identify; in any case, there was no time now to try.

Tana took a steadying breath, and opened the door. 

For some reason, 'I forgot how tall he is...' was the first thing to flit through his mind, even though Shinsuke was hunched a bit, the way he did when nerves seemed to trigger some impulse to make himself a smaller target.  It wasn't working quite so well as it might have, probably owing to the fact that he seemed to be wearing eight sweaters in the middle of a balmy September, under his jacket.
The most beautiful eyes Tana'd ever seen darted almost frantically over his face, pausing nowhere for long, as though Nakamura somehow knew his chance might have a set expiration time.  He'd probably even be ready to duck the slap, but somehow, Tana knew if it came, he wouldn't.

He'd grown out his hair, Tana noted, in the strange, suspended moment.  Hanging in limp curls, flat on one side where he'd probably fallen asleep against the window...it looked a hell of a mess, and gods, but he was so...

"Hey..." Shinsuke ventured finally.  One corner of his mouth made a poor imitation of a smile, sabotaged utterly by the anxious, uncertain look in his eyes.

"Hey," Tana echoed, more an acknowledgement than a greeting.  They somehow managed to accomplish staring at each other without actually looking at each other for several seconds, before control of his limbs suddenly rebooted, and he thought to move out of the doorway.  Shinsuke hesitated until he gestured vaguely towards the living room...or perhaps he, too, had only just recovered enough to propel himself forward, suitcases in tow.

"How was the flight?" he asked, realizing in some dismay that it was the warmest thing he'd said to the man he loved in six months.  Realizing with considerably more, that the descriptor was still indisputably true.

"Oh...you know," Shinsuke said awkwardly, oblivious to his epiphany.  "...long."

"Yeah," Tana agreed, managing somehow not to cringe at how difficult forcing words out had suddenly become.  He'd suplexed men who had hundreds of pounds on him with more ease than he was managing to accomplish small talk with someone he'd once had no secrets from.  There was little consolation in how poorly Shinsuke's own attempts were going.

"I...thank you for...for offering a place to stay," he said, apparently addressing his shoes.  He started a bit and slid them off, as though finding them still on his feet had been a surprise.

"Sure," Tana said desperately, hoping it wasn't obvious he was clenching his teeth.  It would have been hilarious, in other circumstances; they were interacting about as naturally as junior highschool students putting on a play.  "Did you have anywhere....ah, do you think you'll start looking tomorrow?"

"Maybe the day after...it was...a long flight."

"So you said."

"Yeah..."

Ten years passed in an interval of twelve seconds.

Tana cleared his throat.  "Are you...have you eaten?  I just made some sandwiches, in case..."

"I...yeah, I mean - no, I haven't, I...you didn't have to do that," Shinsuke said, words coming out all in a tumble, like a box of canned goods falling down a staircase.  He looked vaguely panicked, as though he thought Tana offering him a sandwich was a blessing so far past believing that the gods might strike him down where he stood to balance the ledger.

"Well no, but...well...it was..." Tana began, helplessly steering towards the inevitable like a paint-covered toddler careening at the only person in the room wearing white. "...a long flight."

He closed his eyes briefly, convinced for a moment that the worst had passed.

"Yeah," Shinsuke responded weakly, apparently in the grip of the same evil power which held Tana himself in sway.

"I'll just...I mean, come in," he said, with another gesture he hoped was more eloquent than anything his mouth was currently capable of.  "Make yourself at...you know, comfortable."

Shinsuke nodded with another rictus of a smile, but seemed to decide no response was necessary...or maybe that silence was safer.

Tana led the way to the kitchen if only to seize the opportunity to turn his face away for a moment as he tried to remember how to work it.  Glancing back, he couldn't help but notice the jacket Shinsuke still hadn't removed.  "You can take that off, you know..."

"Ah...yeah, it was just...chilly on the plane," Shinsuke said quietly.  It was a bizarrely obvious lie, but Tana let it pass without further comment, unable to guess the what it concealed.

He'd spent far too long that afternoon considering the implications of sandwiches.  Would it be more hurtful to make them exactly as Shinsuke liked them, or entirely different, as though his partner's preferences and tastes had simply passed out of his memory and concern?  Did he want to minimize the effect one way or the other, or maximize it?  Sandwiches had never before seemed so sinister or dangerous (a thought which, when he stopped to examine it, had prompted him to just make the damn sandwiches and go outside for a walk before he slid any further into the insanity he was clearly headed for).

At least he could be certain he'd have company when he finally crossed the point of no return; Shinsuke, beyond any shadow of a doubt, Noticed.  He wondered if he was witnessing an historic first: a grown man fighting back tears over his favorite kind of sandwich.

'Maybe I should have ordered takeout,' he thought helplessly.

As one, they made a silent pact; Shinsuke would pretend he wasn't ready to burst into tears over a tooth-rotting combination of peanut butter, banana and chocolate spread, and Tana would politely act none the wiser.  Sat again at his previously-lonely little table watching Shinsuke annihilate his daily sugar allowance, he could admit to needing a moment to collect himself as well.

"So..." he said finally, when he judged the immediate crisis had passed, "how was America?"

He barely followed the beginning of the reply, confronted with the terrible realization that he couldn't recall the number of steps to his own front door, but still knew exactly how many heartbeats on average it took from the time Shinsuke got choked up over something to when he could safely speak without a waver in his voice.

"...a lot of surfing," Shinsuke continued, unaware of his lapsed attention.  "I learned a new trick with these, too," he said, gesturing with a rapidly dwindling sandwich half.  "...You can add bacon."

"That might be the most horrifying thing I've ever heard," Tana told him honestly.

"Well, the goal was to bulk up," Shinsuke pointed out.  "Think of it as protein."

"Sounds more like a heart attack waiting to happen, if you ask me."

"Maybe...but what a way to go," he grinned, looking fondly at the oozing monstrosity.

The normality of the light banter struck him all at once.  If there were only a questing foot teasing up the back of his calf, they could be anywhere on a timeline of their relationship, winding down after an eventful day.  They would wash up, maybe curl up on the couch for a while with a bit of mindless television...he could almost feel Shinsuke's long fingers playing absently with his hair, taste the sweet little random kisses he would periodically offer.  The image was so powerful that for a moment, it was all he could see; an overwhelming reminder of everything he'd spent six months trying to forget.  Longing waged a terrible war in his heart with the cold resentment of remembered heartache.

"...Tana?"

He started, wondering how long he'd sat staring at nothing.  "Yeah - sorry, I just kinda...I was just thinking," he said, pushing back a wave of sudden bitterness.  Shinsuke's fleetingly genuine smile had faltered and vanished; he nodded, but didn't seem to know how to respond.  He found himself simultaneously wishing for the immediate return of the smile, and thinking in some childish part of his mind that he shouldn't be smiling anyway, after what he'd done.  The deadlock didn't seem likely to budge in either direction, so he settled for changing the subject.

"Things have been more or less the same, here," he began, biting back a sigh.

For his part, Shinsuke seemed to listen raptly to his mundane updates on the state of the dojo and the roster, the suits and the crowds; Tana couldn't honestly tell if he was really interested, or merely faking it well while in actuality being just as distracted as he was.  The former was probably more likely; having stumbled somehow and sent them back into awkward small talk, Shinsuke was probably keen to try gauging his true mood.  Tana wished him luck - if Shinsuke could figure out how he was feeling, maybe he'd share his findings and clear things up.

"I'm sorry I had to miss all that," Shinsuke said, as his store of utterly pointless trivialities ran out.  He sounded like he meant it, and Tana had no doubt that he did - nor that he wasn't remotely referring to the installation of a new coffee maker in the dojo kitchen.

"Well...I'm sure it won't take you long to catch up."

Picking up on the mirrored tone, Shinsuke met his eyes for only a fleeting second before dropping his gaze again, fidgeting nervously.  He'd finished his sandwiches.
"I hope not," he said quietly.  Once or twice he opened his mouth again as if to say more, but closed it again immediately.  "Tana..." he began finally.

"The shower's free," Tana cut him off, without even really meaning to.  Something like terror had clawed its way up his spine as soon as Shinsuke'd said his name, no matter how pressing the need for a real conversation was.  He could barely stand the look of confused alarm at the uncharacteristic interruption.  "If you wanted to wash up before - you must be tired," he finished, clumsily.  Shinsuke searched his face but avoided his eyes; Tana could plainly see the entire riotous tumult of emotions he was feeling himself reflected in the way he stood abruptly, almost quickly enough to count as fleeing.

"I...I'll do that, yeah.  Thank you," Shinsuke said, with another one of those terrible not-smiles.  Tana nodded mutely at his retreating back; the near-sprint to the bathroom might almost be funny if he didn't know exactly what the man was running from.
He dropped his face into his hands, sighing deeply.  It took him a while, listening to the faint sound of running water, to collect himself enough to take the abandoned plate and glass into the kitchen.  He almost wished he'd made something more elaborate - brushing a few crumbs into the garbage and wiping off a tiny smear of peanut butter filled hardly any time at all.

How was the conversation even going to go?  How the hell did you even delicately introduce the topic?  Perhaps Shinsuke had spent more time rehearsing it or thinking it over, but all Tana could imagine was bluntly asking "So, remember the time you broke my heart and I shouted at you until you cried?  We should probably have a chat about that, seeing as we're somehow suddenly living together."

He hadn't even thought so far ahead as to figure out where Shinsuke would sleep during his stay.  It was a functional, one bedroom bachelor pad - it wasn't as though he had a fancy guest room.  There was the couch, too short for the big lug's endless legs by half, and a rarely-used spare futon stuffed in the hall closet for when his was the closest home base and someone else was too roaring drunk to find their way back to the appropriate one.

Any other arrangements scarcely merited consideration, at least not without a thorough airing of grievances first.  And he hadn't been wrong - Shinsuke did look tired.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose.  Shinsuke wasn't the only one.

"Hey, Tana?" a sheepish little voice piped up, heralded briefly by the click of the bathroom lock.

"...Yeah?" he said, moving to peer curiously around the corner of the kitchen.  The door was open a mere crack, enough to reveal a sliver of Shinsuke's face, held at an awkward angle.  Tana quirked a brow, waiting expectantly.

"I uh...forgot to actually bring a change of clothes in.  There's a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt right at the top of the blue duffle bag, if you wouldn't mind..."

"Did you break your legs while you were in there?" he asked, baffled by the request.  "I know there were towels..."

"Well...yeah, but..." Shinsuke trailed off, ducking his head.  He looked oddly...nervous?  Shy?

Tana gawped at him in disbelief.  Blows to the head were common enough in their business, but surely Shinsuke couldn't have forgotten that he, of all people, knew exactly what was hidden behind that door?  "I've had my tongue up your ass, Shin-chan," he said flatly.  "I think I can handle seeing you in a towel."

Part of him almost felt guilty for enjoying the way Shinsuke's eyes widened in shock - though whether it was the vulgarity that caught him by surprise or the affectionate diminutive Tana hadn't actually intended to use, he couldn't tell.  Empty seconds ticked by as they stared at each other, a bizarre little stand-off.  Tana folded his arms; he had nowhere to be.

Finally, Shinsuke sighed, slumping a bit in defeat.  "All right," he said softly.  The way he closed his eyes when he swung open the door reminded Tana so keenly of the insecurities they'd conquered together that he really did feel guilty for pushing the issue, before a kind of shock wiped even that out of his mind.  His hands dropped numbly to his sides.

It hadn't been eight sweaters under a bulky jacket, he belatedly realized.

The reason for Shinsuke's evasiveness was immediately clear; Tana'd known - of course he'd known - that the stated goal of this excursion was to gain as much muscle mass as possible, but somehow the facts of the matter hadn't quite penetrated deep enough to reach the last mental file photo he had of his willowy, elegant beloved.

"Holy shit, sweetheart," he said, too stunned to even notice the escaped endearment.  "What the hell did they do to you over there?"

"Oh...you know...fed me, mostly," Shinsuke managed, after a strained interval.  His eyes had snapped open on 'sweetheart,' but apparently any encouragement he'd taken from it had vanished at the look on Tana's face; he'd shifted immediately to full self-depreciating-humor-as-a-defense-mechinism mode, but his lips were visibly trembling even as they valiantly held position as a passable wry smile.

"Yeah, I can tell..." Tana said distantly.  The initial shock was starting to wear off, but he couldn't stop staring.  "Bacon on chocolate sandwiches, huh?"

"Well...can't say it wasn't effective, even if it wasn't an approved method," he joked, a little desperately.  He sounded out of breath, like he'd been holding it to get over the hiccups; tears he was fighting back lent an awful shimmer to his beautiful eyes...but he looked terribly resigned, too.  "Does the current reigning Ace of Muscles have an opinion?"

Tana took a half-step forward before he caught himself.  "I think..." he began haltingly.  His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out; he forced himself to keep his hands down.  "...I think you've gone up a bra size," he said finally.

One pretty captive tear escaped along with a startled laugh that came out half a sob.  It dashed itself to pieces, splashing against a collar bone much less pronounced than the one Tana remembered tracing reverently with his fingertips.  He suppressed the impulse to surge forward and reunite the little droplets with his tongue, erase the pain that had loosed them.

"Yeah...I'd be afraid to try any of them on now, I think..."

There was an unspoken second half to the sentence that should have been a question, but obviously wouldn't have been - Shinsuke still looked wistfully sad. Not even braced against the inevitable anymore, just...ready to get it over with.

"They're still...your things are right where you left them, Shin-chan," Tana assured him quickly, mind's eye flashing to an unassuming padlocked chest in the corner of his bedroom.  "Well - those things are, anyway...a few of the others are in a box in the closet.  Most of them went gently."

Shinsuke stared at him.  "You kept them?" he whispered.

"I...of course I did, sweetheart," he sighed.  "I thought about...I couldn't get rid of them."

"Tana..." Shinsuke said, voice cracking itself in two.  He swallowed hard.  "The way I left..."

"Hurt," Tana supplied bluntly.  Shinsuke flinched like he'd been slapped, an automatic apology halfway out of his mouth before Tana held up a hand to stop him.  "...but that's not a conversation to have standing around in a towel.  Go get your clothes, Shin-chan, and I'll change for bed.  Then we can talk."

Once upon a time Nakamura might have cracked a joke, but he only nodded wearily and headed towards his baggage.  Of its own volition and despite all his efforts to prevent it, Tana's head swiveled to follow his progress; The Back had lost a bit of its dramatic contrast, but was no less beautiful for it.  Some intriguing things had clearly happened to his thighs, as well.  He bit his lip to keep from whimpering and scurried into his bedroom a little bit more rapidly than was strictly necessary.

"I'm so fucked," he muttered, leaning heavily against the door.  Briefly, he considered forgoing a shirt - in the all-out arms-race Shinsuke had unwittingly started, there could be no room for mercy - but in the end he allowed that the undampened power of his abs would only distract from the issue at hand.  "Wait for your moment, fellas," he said, patting them fondly.

The absurdity of knocking on the inside of his own bedroom door wasn't lost on him, but he did it anyway; Shinsuke's fully-uncovered thighs were at least as likely to derail the discussion as his own abs.  He heard a faint acknowledgement from the other side of the door.

Shinsuke was standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room in his jammies, looking for all the world like an overgrown kid waiting to see how much trouble he was in for spilling a whole bottle of juice on the rug.

"You're allowed to sit down, Shin-chan," he said, biting back a fond smile.

"Right..." Shinsuke nodded.  Tana still accomplished it first even though he had further to travel; Shinsuke lowered himself onto the couch slowly, at a respectful distance, as though he were afraid it was somehow a trap.  He was as rigidly tense as Tana'd ever seen him, sitting stiffly upright like someone might be evaluating him on posture.
'I guess you can lead an idiot to the couch but you can't make him relax,' Tana thought, turning to swing his own legs up and sit cross-legged, facing his frozen other half, and waited.  Cautiously, after a moment, Shinsuke mirrored his actions.

"So," Tana prompted.  "When you left...?"

Some of the tension drained out of Shinsuke's shoulders, but only because of the way they slumped.  He was hunched up again, arms wrapped around himself as though the victim of a sudden chill.

"I swear...I swear I didn't mean it to hurt you, Tana.  I just...when they told me...I was so afraid, when they told me.  You know how things are - 'Go to LA for a while.' - how long would 'a while' be?  Did they even know?  Excursions can go on for years, and I didn't...I didn't want you to think I just assumed you'd want to..."

"You might have asked me," Tana pointed out.  Shinsuke winced, avoiding his eyes.

"I know.  I know, I'm sorry."

"It felt like...it sounded like you didn't even consider it a possibility.  Like nothing I said or did managed to make it through that thick skull of yours enough to believe I meant any of it - and you thought I'd leap at the chance to dump you and go back to screwing around with random women."

"I'm sorry."

"You fight for everything, Shinsuke.  But you just...gave up on me."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, a bare whisper.  His eyes were squeezed shut again; he seemed to be collapsing slowly in on himself, like a deflating balloon.

"Tell me the other reason, Shin-chan," Tana said.  He'd intended it as a stern demand, but sympathy softened it to a gentle request.

Shinsuke's response was too quiet for him to hear; he might have only been mouthing the words.  The tortured look on his face finally broke Tana's resolve; he scooted closer to cover one of Shinsuke's hands with his own, prying it loose from where it had a deathgrip on the opposite elbow, and held it in his lap instead.  Dark eyes snapped open in surprise; a few tears broke loose with the suddenness of the motion.  Tana ran his thumb lightly over the backs of Shinsuke's knuckles.  The last time he'd held this hand, he'd ended by dropping it as though it burned him.  'I don't expect you to wait for me,' echoed through his mind again.  For once, it didn't make him angry.

"Shin-chan.  Tell me what you're afraid of."

He wasn't sure, in the interval of strained silence, whether physical contact was helping or hurting his partner's obvious struggle to control his emotions long enough to speak, but he kept the gentle touches up anyway, watching Shinsuke's face contort with effort.

"You loved..." he said finally, voice breaking terribly on the past tense, "you loved the way I looked, before.  Everyone said I was too skinny, but...you liked it that way, a little...a little feminine.  I thought...I...if I'd been built like this, then, would you have ever..."

"Oh, Shin-chan," Tana sighed.  He turned Shinsuke's hand over in his own, tracing the pattern of vitiligo on his wrist.  It was unchanged; even the wrist itself wasn't really noticeably thicker.  Short as his fingers were, Tana could still circle it with his thumb and forefinger.  "I tried, you know?  I was pissed, and hurt, and I thought 'Well, if that's what he thinks of me, I won't disappoint him.'  So yeah.  I went on a few dates while you were gone."

Shinsuke flinched again, dropping his gaze - but he nodded, too; miserably, as though he'd expected it.  The thought rankled a bit, but...whatever the status of their relationship had been during his absence, Tana doubted even the most optimistic romantic might have labeled it 'exclusive,' so he could hardly take issue with the assumption.

"You know what I figured out?" he asked, idly resuming his exploration of Shinsuke's hands.  "I figured out there's no reason to keep looking when you've already found the one."

Even the way Shinsuke'd been subtly trembling since they sat down stilled; he sat still as a statue.  After a sharp inhale, Tana wasn't even certain he was breathing.  As though he was afraid to do that, too.

Carefully, Tana released Shinsuke's hand and reached up to cup his face; that too had ever so slightly altered, fuller by an almost-imperceptible margin.  A bit more stubble than usual pricked at his fingers, evidence of a long day.  Shinsuke's perfect lips parted as if about to emit a sound, but none escaped; Tana swiped his thumb over the bottom one.

"Tana..." he whispered finally.

"I seem to recall asking you to call me 'Hiroshi,' once," Tana reminded him idly.  "It was right after I told you I loved you, if I'm not mistaken.  I still love you, sweetheart.  I don't think I ever even tried to stop," he said.

Whatever last shred of willpower Shinsuke had deserted him entirely.  Tana couldn't have said who moved first in the aftermath, only that the force of impact nearly knocked him over backwards.  He held, though, steady as the rock he needed to be, running soothing hands up and down Shinsuke's back while his partner clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably against his neck.  He was trying to speak - at least, Tana was pretty sure he was - but the words were too broken up with emotion to achieve anything like coherence.

"Shhh," he said softly.  "I know, sweetheart.  I'm right here, I've got you."

Shinsuke was a bit more of an armful than he remembered, but every bit as warm.  This close, Tana realized he mustn't have grabbed his toiletries either, when he'd forgotten his clothes; the fresh scent of his own soaps and shampoo filled his nose, a sudden and simple intimacy that made his heart ache.  A few rebellious tears welled up in his eyes; he let them fall as they may, pressing a fierce kiss to the top of Shinsuke's head.
They stayed that way a long while, until Tana's nonsense platitudes became comforting noises, and Shinsuke's terrible sobs faded to shuddering little breaths, broken here and there by wet sniffles.  Tana could feel how tired he was, as though he'd cried out the last of his energy.

"All right?" he ventured finally, trying to get a glimpse of his face.

"I think I made a mess of your shirt," Shinsuke admitted shakily, reluctantly pulling away enough to look up at him.  The sight of the enormous patch of salt water and mucus taking up most of Tana's front and shoulder made them both laugh a little, dissipating all that remained of the tenseness in the atmosphere.

"Fortunately that's an easy fix, huh?" Tana grinned.   Shinsuke watched him peel it off with amusement; it was admittedly not the best strip tease he'd ever managed, but after all, being covered with snot was tough to make sexy even at the best of times.  Anyway, the end result was the same.

"Ah, Tana's abs," Shinsuke said adoringly, "Somehow I missed you most of all."

"They missed you too, sweetheart," he deadpanned.  "They wanted to write you a letter, but none of them have arms."

"I appreciate the sentiment," Shinsuke told them, leaning down to address his stomach directly.  Tana laughed in spite of himself, shaking his head fondly.  If he didn't know better, he'd swear his abs had tingled in response.

"God, I missed you.  You big dork."

Seriousness stole back over Shinsuke's features as he straightened up.  "I missed you too.  I'm s-"

"Sorry, I know," Tana interrupted him.  He caught Shinsuke's hands again, squeezing them lightly.  "You don't have to keep saying it.  And I'm sorry too...I shouldn't have lost it like I did."

"You had every right to be angry..."

"Yeah, but...if I hadn't been too stubborn to go talk to you afterwards, this wouldn't have been such a mess.  And I scared you," he admitted quietly, hushed with remembered shame.  The image of his partner shrinking back from him like a frightened child would probably haunt him for the rest of his life.  Shinsuke didn't insult him by denying it, but abandoned his hands to slip back into his arms.  He hummed approvingly as they closed around him, still an automatic impulse after so long going without.

"Ah...well, I could say I deserved it," he said speculatively, muffled against Tana's shoulder, "but then you would say I didn't, and we'd be out here all night arguing about who gets to fester with guilt."

"Heh.  I suppose you've got a better idea?" Tana asked, affectionately stroking his hair.  It was starting to dry a bit fluffy, he noted, with no small amount of delight.  Shinsuke wiggled a little closer, like a cat adjusting itself in a shoebox; he clearly still had a weakness for Tana's hands in his hair.

"I'd say..." he murmured drowsily, "We have two options:  Either we both fester with guilt - which sounds very unpleasant - or you forgive me and I forgive you, and we go to sleep."

"I feel like maybe you have a vested interest in the second outcome," Tana said with mock-suspicion, hiding a smile in Shinsuke's curls.

"Well, it was..."

"A long flight," they intoned in unison.

Shinsuke shook with laughter in his loose embrace.  "If we need a tiebreaker vote, ask your abs," he suggested.

"We both know they're biased in your favor!"

Delicate fingers teased down his abdomen.  "I know exactly how to bribe them," Shinsuke said smugly.

"Conspired against by my own abs," he cried, looking down in dismay as they twitched under Shinsuke's hands.  "I guess you win. But I think I should be compensated for my gracious concession."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mmm hmm."

"And did you have something in mind, o benevolent one?"

"Ass," Tana teased fondly, ruffling his hair.  "I did, as a matter of fact: get up here and kiss me."

Shinsuke pulled away again, looking speculatively at him from inches away.  "That sounds very reasonable," he said, and kissed him.

Petal-soft lips parted instantly at the request of his tongue; Shinsuke received him eagerly, almost desperately, and the urgency of it was mutual.
He'd almost forgotten how perfect the feeling was - but only almost.  The wildly clashing tastes of toothpaste and lingering peanut butter ought to have been repulsive, but all he could really taste was relief, that Shinsuke's fears and his own anger and the pitiless whims of their employers hadn't deprived him forever of this, the truest connection he'd ever known.

Of the three girls he'd taken out during their separation, he'd only actually gotten around to kissing one...and he could only imagine what kind of impression she must have come away with.  During the dark early weeks, he'd even toyed with the idea of going out with another man; maybe lightning would strike twice.  But he wouldn't honestly have known where to begin down that avenue, and in his heart he knew the problem; male or female, there was really only one person he wanted.  If he'd had any doubts of that, the stiffly formal kiss with poor... whatshername...would have handily erased them.

It hadn't even been a pale imitation of this, Shinsuke sweet and warm in his arms, the soft tickle of his breath, the contented sounds he made.  The little shivers he'd missed feeling so much followed the path of his hands across Shinsuke's back.  Being shirtless, Tana was already at a disadvantage, but his partner had never really developed much resistance to his charms; he could be rendered near-incoherent with a few well-placed touches.
Tana was just considering really upping the pressure with a pass of his nails over the small of his partner's back when Shinsuke broke the kiss abruptly, panting for air.

"Ah - sorry," he said, with a sheepish grin.  He sniffed, comically loudly.  "All the crying...I couldn't breathe through my nose..."

"Shin-chan," Tana laughed, shaking his head.  He reached blindly around for the perfectly-positioned box of tissues on the end table - he'd rearranged it three times that afternoon - and offered it with a fond sigh.  "Blow your nose, doofus."

Shinsuke took two without further comment, obviously trying not to laugh.  The audible wet honk ensured all his efforts were for nought, though.

"I'd almost forgotten the thrill of romance," Tana said wryly, watching him examine the sodden kleenex.

"At least it wasn't on your shirt this time," he pointed out.

Tana hung his head.  They would probably have six month's worth of nonsense made up for by tomorrow afternoon.  "Come on," he said, hauling himself to his feet.  He offered a chivalrous hand to Shinsuke, who accepted it with the dazzling pixie smile he'd missed so much.  "Let's go to bed, huh?  The thrill of romance can wait til morning."

"Are you gonna seduce me in the sober light of day, Hiroshi?" Shinsuke asked playfully, as Tana towed him into the bedroom.

"Losing this will increase your chances," he said, tugging at the sleeve of Shinsuke's t-shirt.  "After all...'we're only going back to bed anyway.'"

"Well...sometime people can be funny about my scandalous arms," Shinsuke teased, unceremoniously tugging the poor strained-to-capacity thing off and tossing it to one side.  His new physique was evident even in the fading light from the small window.

"Whew...how many of your old shirts just gave up and tore?" Tana asked, curiously running his hands over newly-broadened shoulders.  There was some new territory to learn.  Shinsuke looked a bit bashful again, but at least he didn't seem afraid anymore.

"Three in the first two months," he admitted.  "I brought one of yours with me, though - it's still hanging in there."

"Mine are used to it," Tana said automatically, pride hitting the finish line a split second before sentiment.  He brushed his lips against Shinsuke's collar bone.  "Still beautiful, I see."

"Ah..."

"And I can still fluster you with compliments!"

"You could probably manage to fluster me reading the phonebook," Shinsuke sighed.  He ducked his head, but it didn't hide the blush.  Tana kissed him again, sweet and lingering.

"C'mon," he said, tugging him towards the bed.

Shinsuke crawled in first, sinking gratefully into the mattress; he'd probably be out cold in less than five minutes, clinging to him like a barnacle and drooling on his clean pillows.  'I wouldn't have it any other way,' Tana thought, and slipped in after him.  Predictably, Shinsuke was burrowed against his side before he even finished tugging the sheets up over them.  "Hi," he said brightly.

"Ah...and just like that, I can't get up to pee without calling in the jaws of life anymore," Tana joked, brushing a stray curl from his forehead.

"You'll save on the heating bill come winter, though."

"True. I guess I better tag along on your house hunting, seeing as I'll be spending half my time buried in your clutter again."

"We'll tell the landlords you're my burly cousin the shot-putter," Shinsuke deadpanned.  Unfortunately, there were no pillows free to smack him with.

"I missed the part of the day when you finally shut up because you're unconscious, too," he muttered.

Beaming angelically, Shinsuke raised himself up just enough for a kiss goodnight.  "I missed doing that," he said honestly.

"Yeah...me too, sweetheart."

"I love you, Hiroshi."

Tana pulled him a bit closer, suddenly misty-eyed.  A month ago, he never would have believed they could have this again; that things could be so right again. Shinsuke hummed soothingly, attuned as always to his mood.  He pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder.  Tana turned to respond in kind, gently laying one against the mess of curls above his temple.

"I love you too, Shin-chan," he said, offering quiet thanks to whatever force they owed for the blessing of a second chance. 

Maybe the road back to normality wouldn't be so simple...but Shinsuke was here now, safe in his arms, and tomorrow they would wake up together.  The rest would follow at its own pace; after all...Shinsuke fought for everything.  And Tana had never given up in his life.